Page 107 of Cinderella Is Faking It

“I was.”

“How did you find out about the crash?”

“What do you think?” He countered.

“Arewegood?”

“I’ll let you know when my father decides what he wants in exchange for using federal resources on the Russian mob.” Despite his words, he shot me an easy grin over his shoulder. “Nice weed farm, by the way.”

“Do you know where he took Delilah?” I asked, not ready to banter about the situation until I knew Blondie was safe.

“Delilah,” Isaac tested the name in his mouth, “yeah, he took her home, but my guys can’t go in. I can’t go in. Unless you want to start an international incident.”

“Home?”

“Cordelia Montgomery’s house.” Isaac pointed at the street sign as he rounded the corner onto Beacon Street. “Look, Beck, I have no idea what’s going on, and I’d like to keep a shred of plausible deniability, but I had a look at Del’s charts. She’s stitched up but you should get her back to the hospital. Whether or not she’s the real heiress, she deserves that much.”

My fingers twitched, clenching into fists. Whether or not she’s the real heiress? Did he really think I would deny Del the medical attention she needed just because she wasn’t called Montgomery? I forced my hands to relax because Isaac wasn’t too far off. We had met when I’d been very much my mother’s son, and Georgia Beckett had no problem letting someone bleed out once they ceased to be useful to her. Even if I wanted to pretend that I had distanced myself from her over the years, this whole scheme had her stamp of approval on it. Which should have set off my warning bells weeks ago.

Isaac stopped the car a block away from Cordelia’s house and turned in the driver’s seat to level a hard gaze on me. “One last thing.”

“What?” I barked, already gripping the door handle.

“Julian’s the one who took the money and paid off Yelchin. He’s in there with them.”

Of course, he was. I climbed out of the car and didn’t wait to watch Isaac drive off. My mind was reeling a million miles a minute.

Julian had known about Delilah just as long as I had. A former high school teacher, hired as a stand-in for Cordelia. But when had he found out about Yelchin’s part in this?

‘Three strategies. Go.’My mother’s voice echoed in my thoughts, because Julian may have spent many nights at the kitchen table, but he had never tried to leave it early, never hid novels in the dust jackets of his books, never stopped playing the game. He didn’t break Georgia’s rules. Once, he had gotten so frustrated that he had flipped the table, had picked up some small marble sculpture, and had smashed it into the wood until the table legs splintered off. Then he sat down on his chair and stayed there until he came up with one last strategy.

Thatwas the Julian I expected to walk in on.

FORTY-FOUR

“I’msure the Boston Memorial staff is very competent, but I’d rather not have you die due to a hospital infection.” Julian sighed and fumbled with the plastic switch on the IV-drip.

I tried to blink through my blurred vision, but all I got was patches of pastel blue walls and a dark sky beyond my windows. Julian’s words swam through my hazy thoughts. Hospital. This wasn’t the hospital. We were in my bedroom. “I don’t…” My voice died a raspy death after just two words and I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to think, trying to piece together the scenes in my head.

“Don’t worry. You’ll get all the medical attention you need. We have great physical therapists on staff to make sure there’s no lasting damage to your range of movement. If you want, I’ll set up an appointment for you with one of the country’s top therapists, so you can work through today at your own pace,” Julian rambled on, his voice grating against my nerves.

His words drifted in and out of my head, as I replayed the snippets. I’d been in a car crash. Then black. I’d been in the back of an ambulance. Then black. I’d been at the hospital. Then black. No. Not I.We. We had been in a crash. “Where’s Beck?” I croaked.

“He’ll be here tomorrow.”

Tomorrow. Here? In my room? Why was Julian in my room? My temples ached under the pressure of all the questions. “I’m tired.”

“I know, Del. Try to catch some sleep. We can discuss the next few weeks of recovery later.”

Julian pulled my blanket higher before leaving me be. He turned off the lights, and I allowed myself to sink deeper into the pillows and close my eyes. Before sleep could catch me, the lock on the door clicked shut.

My eyes flew back open at that one mechanical sound.

I pushed myself up against my headboard and in the dark room. Something tickled the back of my mind. Another dark room. A melody. That goddamn song on Beck’s lips as he nuzzled closer to me.

“Good song,” I mumbled, tongue heavy.

“Good night,” he whispered back.

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